Prompt# 118 - Mortal Coil - Healing - Tekia - original

[tekia.livejournal.com]

Title: Healing
Fandom: Original
Prompt: Mortal Coil
Warnings: may contain traces of m/m
Rating: PG
Summary: Tel decides what to do after he loses the one he loved most.

Sometimes when he slept, he could swear he could feel Talmon laying beside him. He would wake up, warm and oh so comfortable before his memories ruined the moment for him. How could he be warm without his lover’s body pressed against his own? How could any bed feel comfortable without his lover’s weight dipping the mattress?
Sighing, Tel sat up and shoved his hair from his face. He blinked into the semidarkness and wondered when was he going to get used to being so alone. His chest hurt and his eyes from when he’s cried himself to sleep once again. He licked his lips and his stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten the night before either.
Quickly, he dressed and tied his hair away from his face and sought out the kitchen. While his feet knew every inch of this stone castle, it was the people in it that made it so strange. Servants he had never met before all stared at him with a mixture of pity and fear.
He was the Warlord’s slave.
How horrible, he’d heard some say. Others weren’t as kind, knowing of his love for the dead man. Slut, they’d called him. Whore. It didn’t matter to him. Holding a hand to his aching heart, he knew that his love had been pure. With a small, secret smile, he thought, “There’s no way I would call your love pure.”
“I love you. You’re my heart.”
Fisting his hand over his heart, he willed the pain away, at least during the daylight hours and found the kitchen.
A woman was placing foodstuffs on a tray when he entered and she smiled at him.
“You’ll be wanting food then. Sit you down. You don’t eat nearly enough, if I do say so myself.”
Eagerly, Tel did as he was told and was soon spooning up warm broth that didn’t upset his stomach. For so long he hadn’t been able to eat. Not after seeing that.
Even now, just thinking about how the Warlord hung from the rope turned his stomach and he pushed the nearly full bowl away and stared at it with longing. His stomach clenched and he felt the bile rising along with the hot tears.
Quickly dashing the tears away, he thanked the cook, ignoring her protest that he should finish the food, and made good on his escape.
Once outside, the cool morning air cooled his anxiety. He turned his face into the wind and closed his eyes, letting the wind caress his cheeks, cooling the heated trail forever etched onto his cheeks.
With his eyes closed, he could clearly see how Talmon had dropped from sight as the executioner had pulled the lever. He hadn’t been close enough to see him die. They said his neck had snapped when the rope had reached the end of its length, but Tel’s mind played tricks on him, forcing him to imagine the Warlord turning purple in the face as he struggled for breath, his feet kicking.
With a strangled cry, Tel ran away from such thoughts. His feet took him he knew not where, but away. Soon he was away from the castle and out into the field of grass that surrounded the castle walls. The path led to a small village, but Tel veered away, into the forest that would offer solitude and, hopefully, peace.
Once in the forest, he found a tree to take his abuse as he pounded his fists against the rough bark, sobbing brokenly. When would the tears end?
When would the pain go away?
Finally he dropped to his knees and held his bleeding fists to his chest, hissing at the onslaught of pain. He cursed himself for his foolishness, but he felt better for his outburst. If only all his pain was dispersed so easily.
He settled against the tree, his feet digging into patches of brightly colored fallen leaves, their rustling the only sound in the forest. Beyond the forest, he could hear the castle waking, soldiers calling out to each other as the watch changed, the chickens cackling as their food source came within sight. He leaned his head back, and wished to stay away forever.
Maybe he should. It wouldn’t take much to rid himself of this mortal coil. A knife, a rope, anything really. His thumb rubbed over the fine skin of his wrist as his eyes stared sightlessly up at the dead branches above him.
He missed Talmon.
He ached for him.
Tel didn’t know how long he sat there, only that the day grew warmer and the sun rose higher. A rabbit came near him, close enough to sniff before hopping off. Then there was a hand on his brow.
“You’ll catch your death out here.”
A cloak was draped around him and he realized that he was cold. Shivering, he blinked back to himself and found the new lord of Talmon’s castle crouching before him, worry clearly etched on his features.
Tel pulled the cloak closer, hiding behind the warmth. “Perhaps that’s all there is for me.”
Lord Saffron’s concern grew more evident and he reached out to pull Tel to his feet. For a moment the world tipped and Tel reached out to steady himself.
“Please don’t die.”
Startled to hear the emotion behind those words, Tel turned to stare at the lord. He couldn’t find his voice, didn’t know what to say if he could. His confusion must have shown on his face, for Saffron shifted his eyes away from his face, his lips turning up in a smile that was gone almost before it was a full smile. He shrugged.
“You loved him. Right now, you’re the only person alive that does. He was hated by everybody, feared by everybody. You alone remember him fondly. It…” He hesitated and, with a jerky movement, turned away. “It would be a pity for you to die because of your love for him. Then who would offer his soul prayer?”
Lord Saffron led the way back to the castle in silence, his hand on Tel’s elbow, ensuring that the wayward man returned before he froze to death.
Tel wondered, would Talmon’s soul be lost if nobody prayed for it? Was that why he lived while all of the Warlord’s people had been put to the sword? Watching Saffron’s back, Tel decided that perhaps the man was correct. He shouldn’t take his own life when fate hadn’t deemed to take it when all the others fell to its sway.
He would live, if only for the dead.